The Truth about Jack
by Bleu
Summary: Post episode 3.05. A oneshot of the backstory behind the Shepherds' infamous ugly futon inspired by subtleties from the episode and my own overreaching imagination. Derek and Addison pairing, because no one else is there. Read, enjoy, and review. Thanks!


_**The Truth about Jack**_

**By Bleu**

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"…What is it?" 

Addison's face fell.

"What does it look like?"

Derek stepped cautiously towards the newest occupant of their cramped studio apartment, and nudged the corner of it. Repulsed, he edged back away and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, examining the intruder studiously.

"A survivor of the seventies. Sort of." He squinted at the pattern. Yup. It was paisley. Magenta and gold-dominated paisley.

"Hey! Don't talk about Jack that way." Addison exclaimed protectively and stroked the futon delicately.

Derek's face contorted in horror.

"You named this…this…you named this…_thing_—"

"FUTON, Derek. It is a futon. Surely you've heard of them?" Addison heaved a sigh and tossed her arms into a crisscross in front of her chest, her hurt obvious. Derek laughed in disbelief at her strange displeasure and regarded the futon with a wary sideways glance. How his chic, sophisticated, classy, stylish new wife who wouldn't wear an outfit with more than four independent colors in it had come by such affection for an inanimate piece of grotesquely hideous piece of Japanese furniture baffled him.

"Yes." He said gently, moving towards her and taking her pointed elbows in his hands, easing them down from their protective clench. "Yes, I've heard of them."

She pouted, glanced at the futon, and pouted deeper.

"But you don't like him." She deadpanned. Derek tugged her into a light embrace and smiled into her hair when she fit her head in the nook between his cheek and shoulder.

"I'll like him if you want me to." He ran a hand down her back. She sighed.

"Well, we don't have to keep him forever. Just until we can afford—or get the time—to shop for some furniture proper. But until then, I can't sit, eat, sleep, and study on the floor!" she gestured to the ratty carpet beneath their feet, which had been their entire non-hospital universe in the past month they had been married.

"Okay. It's settled then. We keep Jack." He nodded affirmatively, and when her face lit up with glee, he smiled wide.

"You'll get used to him." She assured Derek, wrapping her arms around his waist and smiling proudly at the futon. Derek draped an arm around her shoulder and again examined the futon.

"Can I ask about the history here with thi—Jack?"

Addison's smile faltered.

"Uh…it's probably better you don't know." She edged from under his embrace and flopped onto Jack, her hair fanning out and clashing awfully with the pattern. She twirled chunks of it around her fingers, and avoided his gaze.

Perplexed but enjoying the view of her skirt tangled up a little higher than it should be as she curled on the bed more, Derek followed suit and flopped down next to her.

"Tell me," he implored, his hands making the obstructive buttons of her shirt release their hold one by one. She giggled, eyes alit with delight, and rolled on top of him, playfully digging her nails into his chest.

"No!" she said with a mischievous smile as she let her mouth dance right above his. Before he could make the demand that was in his eyes, she swiftly sunk her teeth into his lower lip.

She knew coherent thought for Derek was over after that. He'd made that very clear many times in the past.

An hour and a half later, Addison felt a tap on her nose.

She reluctantly opened her eyes, which had been peacefully closed as her body simmered with post coital satisfaction.

She and Derek were pressed nose-to-nose, thigh-to-thigh, and everything in between as they both lay facing each other on their sides in the middle of the aged futon. It seemed the physical mirrors their positions created caused a kind of emotional mirror as well; when he grinned at her, the exact same grin spread across her face.

"Hi." He greeted.

"Hi." She returned, and shivered. In the past month, she was learning that being naked for long periods of time in an unheated apartment in New York City was not comfortable, even when the buzzing warmth of love or sex hummed right beneath her skin's surface. Noticing this, Derek pulled one of Jack's paisley sheets over her, carefully tucking it around her and then him, smiling at her face amidst the bizarre pattern.

"Seriously, Addie." He murmured, nuzzling closer. "I don't get these sheets."

She smiled.

"Maybe I have an untapped gauche side you've never met."

He snorted. "I doubt that. I'm pretty familiar with all your sides." He kissed the tip of her nose. "But I have to know—what is the story with this thing?"

Her eyes flickered, too quickly for him to notice. Years of practice made that possible.

"Well, I bought it when I got my first apartment after I left home. It was all they had left that I could afford, and it didn't clash with anything since I didn't have anything…so I just…" She began, remembering with maudlin sentiment the even worse studio she and her late cat Maggie had occupied for four cold, wretched, foul-smelling years.

"…And it—he—saw you through your first few years of college and so you couldn't part with him? I definitely understand that. Even considering the paisley." Derek said, smoothing the hair around her face.

"Something like that." She chewed on the inside of her mouth, and realized her heart was beating a little faster. "I actually lost my virginity on this bed."

Derek's mouth actually fell open.

"Seriously?" his eyes flicked around, taking in the surrounding bed with new scrutiny. "Hmm. Can't say it's too romantic."

"Got your pants off, didn't it?" she teased, wanting desperately to massage the tension from her voice. She could have told him—the truth about the bed, about its now deceased namesake, and about all the dark, sick reasons she still had the rickety old monstrosity, but…she just couldn't. She had never told anyone, ever.

"Yeah, but I'm easy!" he returned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her and the wad of sheets she was swaddled in atop of him again. After a fit of laughter to match his, she rested her chin on his chest and blinked back sudden tears.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked quickly, ceasing his laughter and swiping at the offending moisture on her cheeks. She searched his eyes.

You could tell him. He'd be upset, but he wouldn't love you any less.

As she opened her mouth to speak, the naked love and innocence in his eyes muted her.

He did love her. But he was just too…innocent. He'd never look at her the same if he knew. He would love her, she knew, but things would be different. Too different. Not only would she be damaged, but Derek would be too. The anger would taint him.

"Nothing…I just…" she swallowed the lump in her throat and looked into his concerned, loving eyes.

_It's Derek. He won't hurt you. He loves you, you love him, and you have him now, forever. So stop crying!_ Inner Addison admonished her. She swallowed painfully.

"I just…love you so much." She managed finally as the last stubborn tears evaporated, and watched as relief and adoration flooded Derek's face.

"I love you, too." He assured her softly but intensely as he gathered her even closer. She allowed her head to find it's favorite spot in the crook of his neck and his hands to lazily caress her hair as they lay in tender silence. She allowed her eyes to slide shut after Derek's breathing turned even and deep, and her last thoughts before she too joined him in blissful sleep were a subconscious chant.

_You have Derek._

_He would never hurt you._

_You will never be hurt._

_Never, ever again._

_John Patrick Montgomery is dead._

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**So it was fluffy. Then it wasn't.**

**In fact, it became very much _unfluffy_. Kind of scary implications there, actually.**

**But I only have so much control before my imagination hijacks the story. I don't know how that happened, it just…did.**

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**Okay I'm rambling. My point here, as always—I hope you enjoyed it as much as you could.**

**xo Bleu**


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